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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129202">Blessed Lies of Liquor and Pansies.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goopclaws/pseuds/goopclaws'>goopclaws</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cute, Cute Ending, Cutesy, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Don't Like Don't Read, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drinking &amp; Talking, Established Relationship, Flirting, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship/Love, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Gentle Kissing, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Other: See Story Notes, Pet Names, Random &amp; Short, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Short, Short &amp; Sweet, Short One Shot, Surprise Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vegetables</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:29:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goopclaws/pseuds/goopclaws</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are ya’ winnin’, son?” Wilbur cooed, rushing over to the garden and plopping his bag down onto their outside chairs in a dash, eyes ablaze in adoration for his newly found gardener boyfriend. </p><p>The tips of Schlatt’s ears were sent into deep shades of scarlet, a grumble relapsing from his lips as he jerked back from his flowers, a pout now keenly melted into the line of his lips, “No. I’m not winning at all anymore, fuckin’ ass.” He murmured, smushing his boot into the soil far from his precious garden, eyes cast elsewhere, anywhere other than his flowers or his oh so smug boyfriend looming over him, “Ten shots did I say?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blessed Lies of Liquor and Pansies.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfiction includes romantic scenes with the personas (more specifically YouTube/Twitch personas) of real people. If this makes you uncomfortable or you disagree with it, please do not read this, and defiantly do not comment anything discouraging my use of themes with the personas of JSchlatt and Wilbur Soot on YouTube/Twitch in my writing.</p><p>Please do not spread this 'fic anywhere, especially on social media where the creators featured could see, and do not inform them of this 'fic's existence, as I do not wish to make anyone uncomfortable. If you feel the need to tell me how disgusting I am for writing this, you can if you really want to, but just know, I don't encourage anyone to write similar to what I do, and I don't like that I write things like this either. I am neurodivergent, and hyperfixated on Schlattbur, and the only way I can express this is to write fanfiction, I am anonymous and only go by the alias goop/goopclaws for a reason. Just know, if you do comment something discouraging me, it's something I've already told myself beforehand, and I appreciate your concern for the creators involved.</p><p>Thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wilbur had always perceived his boyfriend as the rough, messy, nonchalant type, more likely to bet on shots of strong, strong beer rather than nurture sprouts of plants in their backyard. Of course, Wilbur thinks this because the man had done just that. The pair of men had sat busying their noses within their shitty instant ramen one night, when Wilbur piped up, oh so curious, as he always was, eyes luminous and accent cunning, “Hey, Schlatt?” He had begun, Schlatt gazing up from his phone he had been scrolling through whilst eating, most likely about to play 8-Ball with Carson, as he always did at dinner, just to annoy Wilbur. He cocked a brow, though his nose scrunched once he caught the look in his boyfriend’s eyes, “I was leaving through the back door this morning to head to my office, and noticed a little garden with flowers and vegetables back there. Did you do that?”</p><p>Schlatt now flickered his phone off, looking fretted and alarmed as his gaze whisked up to meet Wilbur’s, only offering dead silence and slow, slow blinks for a long time, now he snorted, much too fakely, “Nah, I’m not int’uh that pansy shit, you know me, man.” He rusted oh so proudly, though they both could taste the whiskey and lies tainting his throat now, “That gardens been here since we moved in a few weeks back, just haven’t died yet.” He was lying through his teeth, they both knew this, but Wilbur let him have his fun, as well as keep his pride, snorting a lot more realer than Schlatt had, earning a swat at the back of his head for this. </p><p>“Hey, I’ll even bet shots on it, yeah?” Schlatt grumbled proudly, perhaps getting too cocky now as he stood, ecstaticness in his step as he trotted to the kitchen, seeming to care more about picking a couple of shot glasses from their cabinets rather than defending his honor against “pansy shit” regarding their cozy backyard garden. </p><p>“Oh yeah, darling?” Wilbur rumbled, adoring the way his partner would roll his eyes at the nickname, though love soared deep in those same eyes as he did so, his heart blooming at the man who so strongly denied being into “pansy shit”, despite Wilbur being able to perfectly picture Schlatt eyeing down which seeds to plant in his garden at a flower shop just past dawn whilst Wilbur still slept, or him knelt to a patch of flowers, tending to them as Wilbur recorded in his office deep in Brighton. </p><p>Schlatt grinned up to his ears, “Yeah. How many?” He sounded far too excited, and all Wilbur could do was push down the amount of cooing begging to erupt from his throat and send him rushing to pepper kisses all along his boyfriend’s jawline. </p><p>Now, Wilbur had just returned from the office, tired from streaming and sullen with embarrassment from the third noise complaint he’d gotten that week. He decided to peep in on the little garden hidden in the fences of his and Schlatt’s backyard, as it had been a few weeks since Wilbur first mentioned his inquiries to the idiotic American he was happy to call his own. Opening the gate, Wilbur was pleasantly surprised to spot a certain someone perched over colorful tulips and anemones, watering canister held in his gardening glove sheathed grip, a small, content, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Are ya’ winnin’, son?” Wilbur cooed, rushing over to the garden and plopping his bag down onto their outside chairs in a dash, eyes ablaze in adoration for his newly found gardener boyfriend. </p><p>The tips of Schlatt’s ears were sent into deep shades of scarlet, a grumble relapsing from his lips as he jerked back from his flowers, a pout now keenly melted into the line of his lips, “No. I’m not winning at all anymore, fuckin’ ass.” He murmured, smushing his boot into the soil far from his precious garden, eyes cast elsewhere, anywhere other than his flowers or his oh so smug boyfriend looming over him, “Ten shots did I say?”</p><p>Wilbur sneered, crouching down alongside his flower dad of a boyfriend, pressing his lips atop Schlatt’s head, small ghosts of kisses sprinkling along the man’s scalp, arms resting across the smaller brunette’s shoulders in their calm. Soon Schlatt stood, shrugging his boyfriend off in an annoyed manner, stomping over to a basket readied by the garden, digging around in it until he held weed and bracken tasseled flowers, “See, it was s‘pposed to be a surprise, asshole. I even made this fuckin’ gay ass thing for you.” He snarked, motioning the flower crown in his hand lifelessly at his boyfriend, who only seemed to beam.</p><p>Wilbur was quick to snatch the crown up and place it delicately onto his head, as if it would shatter if he rubbed his thumb pad into it the wrong way, grinning to his partner so fondly Schlatt’s heart might just shrivel right in that moment, “Yellow’s pretty on you.” Schlatt whispered, speaking in no louder than a breath, though Wilbur still drowned in his hushed words all the same. Honey caramel locks paired with sungold buddleja circling his head brought Schlatt’s heart to a halt, a pleasant smile unable to keep itself from spreading to his lips as he watched his partner fondly. </p><p>Wilbur let his hands venture to Schlatt once more, the shorter brunette all too love-sicken to bother stopping him, Wilbur’s fingers brushing through the fuzz coating his face in mutton chops, dumb looking on anyone but him. Wilbur pressed his lips gently, softer than the petals Schlatt brewed, to Schlatt’s, their lips meshing to bring them closer together, their souls softening at the feeling buzzing at the pit of each of their heart’s. Schlatt tasted of honeysuckles and whiskey as he always did, but also of carrots and ocrah, which had coincidentally also been two of the vegetables among the garden. The accented man snickered inwardly at the thought of his boyfriend rabbiting at his own crops. Wilbur leaned back from the kiss to rub circles into Schlatt’s cheeks, a warm smile smoothing his lips as he stared to Schlatt like he had tunnel vision, and Schlatt was the only thing he could see, “You’re so cute.”</p><p>Schlatt frowned, swatting at his boyfriend one more, “Shut up, brit’.” And so he did, by pressing gentle lips to flushed jawline, venturing down to the gardener's throat in his kisses and short lived nips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and positive comments are very appreciated!</p><p>I wrote this during burn out on my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112534">Schlattbur Among Us 'fic</a>  I'm midway through writing (if you're curious as to what my upload schedule on that will be, I'm finishing all of the chapters, uploading the third chapter, then uploading the rest one chapter a week). It was just a cute little thought I had, and decided I might as well write, so I'm sorry it's so short and anti-climatic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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